The Definition of Love
by Ariadne Bassarid
Summary: Ryou likes Anzu. Bakura likes Malik. Problematic, when they share one body - and even more so, when Bakura is the one who's running it most of the time. MATURE CONTENT. thiefshipping, hostshipping and more. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Preface/summary/warnings:  
>This is vaguely set after Battle City but before (instead of) everything else. It was inspired by a lot of Malik x Bakura fic I've read lately, so if I've recently left you a review... This one is for you. I'm not sure that'll you want it particularly, but there you go! For me, this story is about manipulation, power, and freedom – though the first two might seem to preclude the third.

This fic contains (in order of appearance): Ryou x Anzu (hostshipping), Bakura x Malik (thiefshipping), Ryou x Malik (angstshipping), Anzu x Malik (manipulashipping) and Anzu x Bakura (vexshipping). And if you squint REALLY hard, you might see some tendershipping.

**WARNING:** **This fanfiction contains explicit material.** That list of ships ought to tell you enough about it and, as it indicates, there are both male/female and male/male pairings here.

Stay tuned for the next instalment soon... This story was just a bit too long to post in one chapter. Please review if you enjoy.

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><p><strong>The Definition of Love<strong>

**Part One.**

* * *

><p>With an abrupt gasp, Ryou came to. There was a moment of nauseating haziness as he tried to adjust to the swirling lights and loud bleeping sounds.<p>

After a moment or two, he realised he was standing in an arcade. That there were a few dozen teenagers staring at him... And that they all looked pretty freaked out. Even the two girls on the dance machine just stood there looking at him, while the machine squealed about how they were missing all their steps.

Ryou looked down. In front of him, there was a guy sprawled out on the floor, out cold, his mouth bloody.

Oh.

Okay.

Now Ryou understood why his right hand was clenched in a first. He looked at it like it belonged to someone else – which of course, only seconds earlier, it had. There was blood across his knuckles too, but not his own, and below that the skin was lifting in a graze that, from experience, he knew would later be compounded with a bruise.

Ryou bit his lip. Another shudder went through his body, but this one wasn't at all mystical: he was about to start crying.

And then Ryou ran. The crowd skittered away from him as he fled out onto the street. He ran as fast as he could, his eyes blurred from the tears. He kept running for several blocks, until his legs felt like they might collapse out from under him, until his lungs felt like they might explode. At least if they did, it'd be because _he_ ran. Because he moved his legs, because he caused this burning sensation in his chest, because he wouldn't stop.

And not because he couldn't stop the other one.

And then at full speed, Ryou plowed into someone. They tumbled to the ground, landing heavily on the concrete pavement. His brain wasn't quite keeping up – it took a moment before Ryou registered that he'd just landed on a girl.

"I am – so – sorry," he gasped, barely able to squeeze out the air. His voice sounded odd to him, like perhaps he hadn't spoken in weeks. Then Ryou realised that not only had he crash-landed directly on top of a girl, but that his apology was more or less being delivered directly into her breasts.

The girl just groaned.

Ryou grimaced. His cheeks felt hot – they burned almost as badly as his lungs. He scrambled to get up, which did not really improve the situation because when he could see her face, he could see that... He knew this girl. Her face was familiar not only from the times they'd hung out together as friends, but from the stolen glances he'd taken at her when he could.

"...Ryou?" she said, obviously as dazed as him. "What...?"

"Anzu! I am so very, very sorry!"

Anzu lay there for a moment. Her chest heaved as she took one breath, and then another, apparently feeling to see if she was okay. It was really hard not to notice the swell of her breasts, tight against the floral print of her dress, as her chest rose and fell. Ryou tried _really_ hard not to notice.

Then Anzu reached her hand up to her head, and it came back with blood on it.

"Oh my word, what have I done?" he blurted.

Giving a wan smile, Anzu slowly eased herself up into a seated position. "It's okay," she said.

"No, it isn't! You're hurt! I could have given you a concussion or – or – "

Anzu smiled again, though it still wasn't really a happy smile. She interrupted him. "Honestly, I think my butt hurts most of all. I just conked my head when I hit the ground. It's all right, it's only a little bump."

"Let me see," Ryou demanded. His need to check that she really was okay outweighed his usual timidity.

Anzu seemed surprised by his forceful tone. She sighed and turned her head. "Take a look, then."

Carefully, Ryou sifted his fingers through her brown hair, not wanting to pull on it. Even despite his worry, he couldn't help but notice that it was soft and smelled of apricots. He felt himself blush again – how could even notice such a thing at a time like this? What was wrong with him? Was he actually getting so used to bizarre, uncomfortable, possibly violent situations that he could stop to moon over a girl in the middle of one? He was going to wind up warped. Well, more warped, at any rate.

Anzu gasped as his fingers found the bump on her head.

"Sorry," he mumbled, trying to peer through her dark hair. She was right – it was only a small graze, not much worse than the ones already on his hand. Scalp wounds did bleed a lot, though. He knew this from experience, too.

Anzu reached her own hand up and gently pulled his away. "Really – I'm fine, Ryou. Don't worry." She bit her lip. "Does it look too much like a mess?"

Ryou felt an uncertain fluttering in his chest when she didn't let go of his hand. Instead, Anzu stared at it. He desperately hoped she thought he'd crushed it on the ground or something on the way down.

And then there was slightly dizzying feeling as the other one – Bakura – floated upward, coming _just_ forward enough in his consciousness to make his own feelings known to Ryou. The other Bakura – the Dark Bakura – liked blood. And at this moment, he liked seeing Anzu's blood on Ryou's hand. He liked seeing it on her hand while their hands were clasped together. He'd like to lick her fingers.

With a sickened gasp, Ryou yanked his hand from Anzu's.

The other-him faded, leaving only an echoing feeling of mockery behind him. In a heartbeat or less, Ryou was alone in his head again. Or, as alone as he ever could be.

"Ryou..." Anzu said tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Ryou stared at her. "I just knocked you down in the street, and you ask if _I'm_ okay?" Even he could hear the note of hysteria in his voice.

Anzu's big blue eyes looked even more concerned. "You were running pretty fast. And..." she hesitated, then a look of determination flashed over her face. "And you look like you've been crying."

Before he could stop the impulse, Ryou's other hand, the clean one, came up to rub his eyes. They felt hollow, somehow.

Anzu nodded, half to herself. "All right. Come on," she said. She stood up, wiped her hands off on her dress, and then held one out to him where he still knelt on the pavement.

Ryou stared up at her hand. What if the other one came back again? But she was just waiting there, and he didn't know what else to do, so hesitantly he reached out and slipped his hand into hers.

Without any hesitation of her own, Anzu hauled him up off the ground, like he weighed nothing. "You look like you could use a hot chocolate."

"No, I couldn't possibly..."

"No buts," she informed him, bluntly.

"But your head – "

"_No_ buts," she just repeated. "I'm sure it doesn't look too gorey. Come on." Anzu used her grip on his hand to tug him towards the nearest cafe, only letting go when she was convinced he was coming along with her.

A few moments later, they were seated at a table for two. The cafe didn't look particularly fancy, but it was quiet inside, at least. And although the tables and chairs were all mismatched, there was a glass cabinet displaying a number of cakes which looked considerably more professional.

Anzu made polite small talk while they waited for their drinks - about the unusually fine autumn weather, about the new album from X-Japan, about Kaiba Corp's new online rpg. Ryou watched as her eyes lit up when the waitress finally put down two tall glasses topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and powdered chocolate.

Anzu took a sip of hers and then sighed happily. "That's better. See? If you hadn't bumped into me, I never would have found the best hot chocolate in Domino."

For a moment, Ryou hoped she would leave it at that. But he should have known better. She was too sensitive to other people's feelings to just let it go.

"Now... What's up, Ryou? Where were you running to?"

Ryou hesitated. "Um, well, I live around here, that's all." It was true.

Anzu frowned at him, but her frown was gentle, almost scolding. "So do I, but that's not what I meant. What's going on?"

Ryou intended to lie, to say that _nothing_ was wrong. She was being nice, but there was really no point telling her. It wasn't like there was anything she could _do_ about it. At best she'd start treating him weirdly. At worst, well... She'd be scared of him.

So it was with a feeling of horror more than relief that when Ryou opened his mouth, he heard himself totally spill the beans.

The effect on Anzu was immediate. She flinched, and her spoon slipped out of her fingers and into her hot chocolate, now as irretrievable as the marshmallow she'd been aiming for.

"What?" she blurted.

"He's not gone. The spirit. The spirit of the ring. I... Can't get rid of him."

Ryou watched Anzu's face struggle as she tried to control her feelings. She didn't do a very good job of it.

"How is that possible?" Her voice was almost a whisper. "I thought after Malik..." she trailed off.

Ryou couldn't help it – he laughed. What _had_ they all thought? He'd often wondered.

Malik – the evil Malik, the crazy Malik – had defeated the original inhabitant of his own body and the spirit of the ring, who had been duelling together. And Ryou, the spirit and good Malik had all plunged into the shadow realm, unconscious... Until the Dark Yugi defeated Dark Malik and saved them all. So what, exactly, did they think had happened to him? Oh no – Ryou is possessed by an evil spirit... But that mysterious coma probably cured him, right?

They'd just left him on that stupid blimp.

Anzu took a deep breath and forged ahead. "We thought when Malik defeated the spirit, it had been sent to the shadow realm without you."

"No. There's definitely two of me in here," he said. "And sometimes... Most of the time... I'm not the one in charge."

Anzu had a funny look on her face. He couldn't tell whether it was mostly horror, or mostly pity. Neither emotion was great, but he guessed that both were better than her running screaming out of the cafe.

Of course, she still had time to do that, too.

But then Anzu shook her head and her expression cleared. Her face was determined when she reached out her hand to grab his yet again.

"That's awful," she said.

* * *

><p>At home that night, Ryou stood under the scalding water of his shower. It seemed like he spent a lot of the time in there, trying to wash away whatever he'd done that day – that week. He hoped it didn't become one of those obsessive disorders. Could it be one already? He wondered if he'd been to school recently.<p>

Any relaxing effect the water had was lost when he heard a bitter laugh – a laugh that was disembodied, and all-too-familiar. Although the sound seemed to come from everywhere, Ryou knew it was all in his own head. It swelled against the inside of his skull, heavy like darkness, and Ryou half-expected everything to truly go dark as the pressure became too great.

But instead, the other one – Bakura – appeared beside him suddenly. Ryou stared at the spirit. Its hair was wild and unkempt, and its eyes were his own brown eyes – but crueller, meaner, harder. His outfit was the same as the one that Ryou had thrown on the floor twenty minutes earlier, some trashy jeans and a t shirt for a band Ryou had never even heard of.

The spirit leaned back against the bathroom sink, arms crossed against his chest. Well, at least he didn't look angry. Ryou turned his back on the spirit and faced the showerhead. He didn't like it when he could see himself this way. It felt like looking into a twisted funhouse mirror.

"Tell me," Bakura said, his voice a little too amused. "What exactly did you think you were going to achieve by spilling our little secret today?"

"Nothing, Yami," Ryou said. His voice came out so soft that it was almost inaudible. He wondered just how pathetic he sounded.

The spirit laughed again. "Oh, come now. You must have had some goal in mind. Maybe you think if you enlist the captain of the Friendship Brigade, you'll find some way to get rid of me?"

Ryou held his face under the steady beat of the water from the shower. When he didn't reply, Bakura prompted him. "Well?"

"No," he said, eventually, and he wasn't sure whether he was half-choking on the hot water or on more tears.

He said it, and he knew it was true. He was never getting rid of Bakura. Never. He'd tried throwing the ring away, but it returned by itself. He'd tried destroying it, but it wouldn't burn. If one of them went to the shadow realm, they both went. If one came back... They both come back. And Ryou was only ever in charge of his own body when Bakura let him take charge. He had almost no say in the matter at all.

It was pointless to fight Bakura. It was pointless to do anything, and yet... He couldn't stop living. Things would be so much easier if he could just stop fighting this pointless fight, but instead he snatched at brief moments of freedom whenever he could. Even if that freedom was a lie. It was either try to keep those moments for himself, or just go insane.

For some reason, Anzu's eyes came to mind. They were more teal than blue, he thought.

"Well," Bakura said. "Hurry up and get your skinny ass out of the shower. I have places to take it. I'm a busy guy, you know."

Ryou didn't bother answering him. He just shut off the faucet and stepped out of the shower stall. There was barely room to move in his tiny bathroom, especially with the spirit there lounging there, eerily see-through. There was no point being bashful either – Bakura had seen it all before. Oh, hell. He'd _done more with it_ before.

Ryou managed to get himself into some clean clothes, his hair just blow-dried, before the world spun and everything stopped.

* * *

><p>"Malik," Bakura said. "Malik – wake up."<p>

In the bed, the dark shape stirred. "'Kura? What time is it?" Malik's voice was low and scratchy from sleep.

Bakura snorted. "Like I give a fuck."

Malik sighed and rolled onto his back – but he pulled the pillow over his face in the same movement. "Go away. I'm sleeping."

Bakura grinned; and he knew that if Malik could see him in the darkness, the grin would make Malik shiver. He crawled onto the bed and lay down beside Malik's prone form – he stretched out on his side, leaning on his left arm, head propped up on his hand.

"Aww, does baby need a nap?"

"Mmmph," was Malik's only response.

Bakura's other hand shot out and yanked the pillow away. He grabbed Malik's jaw and twisted the boy's face toward him. Bakura could see better in the darkness than Malik, and he knew that Malik's purple eyes were suddenly wide. Bakura liked the feel of his fingers pressing into Malik's skin; he wondered if he'd leave bruises this time, or if Malik's bronze complexion would hide them.

His stupid little host had no idea how to use the strength of his own body.

Bakura released his grip on Malik's chin and slid his hand down, hesitating over Malik's soft throat. After this threatening pause, he let the hand rest on Malik's upper chest. His fingers played gently along the collarbone. He leaned in to whisper into Malik's ear, careful that his lips just brushed the earlobe.

"You want to know what time it is?" Bakura said.

He knew, with an almost sixth sense, that despite himself Malik was already growing hard. He trailed his fingers down Malik's smooth, tanned chest, down his firm abdomen, and confirmed it. Yep.

Malik shivered at the touch of Bakura's hand, and Bakura knew it wasn't just because his fingers were cold. "Sometimes, you are such an asshole. Us mere mortals actually need sleep, do you know that? I'm sick of you bursting in here at all hours. It can't always be fuck-o-clock."

Bakura gave a bark of laughter. "Shut up." He rolled on top of Malik suddenly, pressing the weight of his body against the other boy's. The feel of Malik's hardness pressed against him only stoked his own erection, made him harder, too.

"Oh, whatever," Malik bitched, but it sounded like his heart was no longer in it. He did add, "But next time, it's my turn to top."

Bakura collapsed in, pressing their chests together, and in the same movement he sank his teeth into Malik's shoulder. The other boy moaned as Bakura tasted the sweet, metallic tang of blood. Bakura lifted his mouth long enough to say, "I'll make you beg me to be on top again after this."

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><p>In the morning, Ryou woke with someone warm wrapped around him. He stiffened in shock, his whole body going tense. Occasionally, Bakura had woken up his consciousness at inappropriate times, just for a laugh. Sometimes while shoplifting, or in a fight. Sometimes for a stupid mess he'd gotten himself into and couldn't be bothered getting himself out of again. Only once when kissing Malik. For the most part, the spirit left Ryou hanging in the darkness when he did all the things he liked to do. Ryou suspected, most of all – more than any of the other things – that the spirit didn't want to share his time with Malik.<p>

He'd never done this to Ryou before.

Malik felt Ryou wake up, and he snuggled closer. Ryou didn't know what to do. Fortunately, when Ryou's body didn't relax into his after a few more moments, Malik raised his head.

The Egyptian boy's blond hair was shaggy, mussed from sleep, sticking up at even weirder angles than usual. His eyes were wide, purple like amethysts, and they peered searchingly into Ryou's face. Then those eyes narrowed.

"Oh," Malik said. "It's you."

He rolled away from Ryou to the other side of the bed, apparently intending to go back to sleep.

Ryou lay there. Did that mean he could just get up and leave? He turned his head and stared at Malik's back, where the sheets had slipped down revealingly. Malik's tanned skin was covered with strange glyphs that almost looked more like scars than tattoos. Suddenly Ryou couldn't suppress a sound of – dismay? Despair? He didn't even know.

Malik rolled back over. He looked grumpy. "What?"

Ryou found himself fighting back tears, again. He hated it. He hated how often he wanted to cry, even if they were often tears of frustration. Tears of exhaustion. He especially didn't want to cry here, in front of Malik. Malik would probably just laugh about it later with the spirit.

"Why would he do this?" Ryou managed to say. "What would he do this to me? Why would he do it to you?"

Malik laughed, though his eyes didn't smile. Although he wasn't happy, he didn't look too intimidating , lying as he was beside Ryou in bed. If anything, he looked handsome, in a dishevelled kind of way.

"He's inside _your_ head. Can't you guess?"

Ryou shook the head in question, wordless.

Malik gave a yawn and stretched. "Because he _can_," he said. "That's why. That's the only reason he needs."

"But don't you care?" Ryou blurted. "Don't you care that he's just gone and left you stuck with _me_?"

Malik gave him a considering look. Ryou thought that this was probably the longest conversation they'd ever had. He tried not to think about the fact that they were both naked.

Malik shrugged. "Not really." He smiled, and this time it was gentle. He reached out and touched Ryou's white hair softly, reassuringly. "There are worse people to wake up next to, you know."

At that, Ryou turned his eyes downward, suddenly unable to look the other boy in the face. He couldn't process this. Was Malik just playing with him? Was he being nice to Ryou to make the spirit angry? Did he actually give a shit about any of this?

Malik sighed. "Just go home, then." He rolled back over, apparently to go back to sleep, or just perhaps to give Ryou some privacy.

Ryou took it, leaping out of bed. At first he couldn't find his clothes – they definitely weren't the ones he'd put on when he'd last gotten dressed. By the time he'd searched Malik's room, he'd only just absorbed the fact that the one bedroom apartment was only a little bigger than his own studio, despite the fact that the only times he'd seen Malik with – with clothes on, they'd been expensive clothes, with an over abundance of expensive-looking jewellery. But this apartment was – well, it wasn't what Ryou expected. And it was a total mess.

As soon as Ryou could get dressed, he left.

* * *

><p>But two days later, he found himself standing in front of Malik's building again. He knew what he wanted to ask Malik, but not how Malik would take the question. He didn't really expect any help, but for some reason – persistent, stupid hope, perhaps – he was there anyway. Ryou took a deep breath, and pushed the buzzer.<p>

There was no response for a full minute. He pushed it again.

"What?" a voice crackled over the speaker.

"Malik? It's... Um, it's Ryou."

"Ryou?" Malik sounded surprised. He didn't say anything else, but a moment later the door beeped and Ryou could push his way inside.

By the time he got up the stairs to Malik's doorway, Malik was standing in it. He leaned on the door frame, arms crossed. There were gold bracelets on his wrists, and somehow their warm colour and the intricacy of the delicate metalwork made the lean Malik look more muscled – contrast, perhaps.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon." Malik looked Ryou up and down, taking in the prim black linen pants, vest and shirt. His mouth pressed in a thin line, and Ryou couldn't tell if he was annoyed, or hiding a smile. "At least, not by your own choice."

Malik stepped back and gestured for Ryou to come inside.

When he walked in, Ryou realised that the apartment wasn't quite as messy as he'd thought before, in his rush to leave. Or rather, it was messy but wasn't mess, it was _things_. Knick knacks. Mostly books. Ryou looked at the pile near his feet. Some of them seemed to be in Japanese, others in English or Arabic. There were even a few in French. Those ones looked old.

Ryou wasn't quite sure what to say, but Malik filled the silence easily. He was still staring at Ryou with that funny expression. "Seeing you like this is certainly a trip."

"I beg your pardon?"

Malik snorted with laughter. "Oh, that's too good – 'I beg your pardon'!"

Ryou bristled, but said nothing.

"Oh, come on, pet. Don't get so easily upset."

"Yes, well," Ryou replied. "I find that I have plenty to be upset about."

Malik just laughed again. "Woo! Talk about the understatement of the year. I can sure see why he likes you."

Ryou stared at him, expression flat. "I don't think I'd put it that way."

Malik shrugged and walked into his kitchenette. "Coffee? I don't have anything else to offer you, sorry."

"Coffee would be fine," Ryou replied out of politeness.

He watched Malik bustle about the kitchenette. Malik's gold jewellery jingled as he hopped about. Watching him, Ryou realised that there was a phenomenal amount of contained energy to everything Malik did. Next to the dark-skinned boy, Ryou felt like a pale ghost, growing fainter and fainter.

Malik glanced up from the kitchen. "Well, sit down," he said.

The living area had a beat-up blue couch, a somewhat more expensive-looking brown armchair, and a small television set that – on closer inspection – wasn't actually hooked up to the wall at all. Ryou sat on the couch. Malik handed him a mug, and then sprawled in the chair opposite. He looked like a large golden cat, totally relaxed and yet ready to spring into action.

Ryou took a sip of the coffee. He tried not to make a face – it was black, and ridiculously syrupy. Arabic style, he guessed.

"So, to what do I owe the _pleasure_?" Malik's eyes were a little too knowing for Ryou's liking.

Ryou cleared his throat. "I came here today because you're the only person who... Knows what it's like."

Malik understood immediately. He sneered. "What about Yugi?"

Ryou thought about it for a moment. When Malik challenged him, he didn't feel cowed, the way Bakura made him feel. He felt like the other boy was testing him somehow. "First, Yugi _likes_ his spirit. I think you'll agree that it's... Not quite the same thing. Second, he's in Egypt with his grandfather, at one of Professor Hopkins' digs. Third, you... You're the only one other who's... Been inside me."

Malik raised one eyebrow and opened his mouth, and Ryou just knew something vulgar was about to come out. He quickly continued, "I mean, you were inside my head with Bakura. You know what it's like to... Share with him."

Malik smiled in response. "I hate to break it to you, my fuzzy little dandelion, but I _like_ sharing things with Bakura." He leered. "Lots of things."

Ryou just stared at him, waiting for Malik to give a proper response. He tried not to fidget under Malik's unnerving and yet captivating stare.

"Everybody thinks just because the Dark Yuugi destroyed my... Crazy side, that I'm normal now. Well, I'm not." Malik laughed. "Jesus Christ, how could I be?"

Ryou realised that he'd thought almost the same thing a few days earlier, talking to Anzu. He didn't know how to answer that question, either.

"That ... craziness... It didn't live in the rod, like Bakura lives in your ring, or Yuugi's little friend lives in his puzzle. It came out of me. It was a part of me. It's never going to be completely gone." Malik glanced down at his coffee and said in a low, cold voice, "I killed my own fucking father. I mean, I didn't do it, exactly, but... It was still my hands. I can't put all the blame onto my little mental problems. Those problems were in this head, in my head."

This time when Malik's purple eyes glanced back up from under his long, dark lashes, Ryou felt his skin crawl, like there were invisible insects walking all over it.

"When I came here to destroy the pharaoh, I chose to do that. Not the other part of me. This part. Just because I changed my mind, that doesn't make me a good person."

Strangely, Ryou understood. He nodded. "It changes you."

Malik's eyes narrowed. "Yes, it does. I'll never be entirely sure what I like, and what I like because _he_ liked it."

Ryou cleared his throat. "What you're saying is... You two – you and Bakura – are... Compatible."

To Ryou's surprise, Malike threw back his head with a peal of laughter. "Is that your polite British way of saying that we're both total fuck ups?"

Ryou blushed. "N-no. I mean..."

Malik pushed himself to his feet. "Well, you're probably right. Has this little heart-to-heart done what you wanted it to?"

Ryou nodded. He wasn't really sure what he'd achieved – he certainly hadn't got any tips on how to share his own head with a murderous spirit. But there was a sense that the conversation was definitely over.

"Good, then get the fuck out of my apartment," Malik said cheerfully.

Just before Ryou closed the door behind himself, he heard Malik say, "See you again... Real soon."

* * *

><p>Ryou walked into the second floor study area in the public library. It was practically empty in there this time of the evening, and he instantly recognised a brown-haired bob toward the back of the room. He wondered if he should turn around and walk back out again. No. He made up his mind and went toward her.<p>

"Hello, Anzu."

Anzu looked up in surprise. "Ryou! I've been thinking about you." Her cheeks went faintly pink. "I mean, I've been worrying about you. I tried calling you a few times but you never answered your phone."

Ryou's expression darkened. "I'm sorry, Anzu. I didn't know."

She blinked. "Oh, well... Are you here to study?"

Ryou smiled, but he knew he didn't look happy. "Yes, but I'm afraid I'm rather behind."

"You should sit and study with me."

Ryou sat down next to Anzu. He realised that she looked a little out of sorts. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes... It's just been a tough week," she said.

"Tell me about it?"

"Oh, no, I ..." Anzu shook her head, but the glum expression didn't leave her face. "I feel silly talking about my problems when yours are... Serious."

Ryou sighed. "Honestly, Anzu. It would be nice and... normal to hear about someone else's life."

Anzu looked at him, considering. "Well," she said slowly, "... I had a dance exam yesterday."

"It didn't go well?" Ryou guessed.

"It was horrible!" she burst out suddenly, and another blush spread over her cheeks. "I... I fell over."

"Oh, no."

"Yep," Anzu said. She sighed. "I guess it would have been funny, if I hadn't spent weeks rehearsing."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure." Anzu's eyes seemed bluer than ever. "One minute everything was fine, and the next, I bumped into another girl." She gave a weak smile. "I guess it's been a week for crashing into people."

Ryou felt compelled to apologise again. "I'm sorry, Anzu."

She blinked at him. "Oh, no, it's okay, Ryou. It's just, the worst part is... I'm not sure she didn't do it on purpose."

Ryou frowned. "But why would she do that?"

"Well, I fell down... But she didn't. And she was angry at me afterwards, but not as angry as she should have been. I think she resents that I'm at the top of the class and she might have... Tripped me deliberately."

Ryou felt angry, and it was a welcome emotion. It was almost _nice_ to feel angry, when that anger was about something else for a change, about someone else's problems. "Anzu, that's terrible!"

"And now," Anzu continued, "We have this maths test tomorrow, and I haven't studied for it because I spent so much time rehearsing."

"...We have a maths test tomorrow?"

"Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sorry," Anzu said, a little lamely. "I forgot you wouldn't know."

Ryou laughed, but it sounded empty even to him. "It's all right. I know now, and I'm good at maths."

"Well, I'm not!"

"Then I'll just have to help you. We'll be fine. You know, assuming I actually show up to take the test," he tried to joke.

"It can't be good for you to miss so much school." Anzu frowned. "You've hardly been there at all the last few weeks. With Yugi gone, I've been stuck with Jou and Honda."

Ryou could only shrug in response. "I don't know. Now that I know about the test, I'll probably be there. The way I see it, if the spirit makes me flunk out of school, I won't get a job to pay for his lifestyle, and my father won't keep sending me money forever. I doubt the spirit wants to live on the streets." Ryou laughed again, aware of how bitter he sounded but unable to hide it. "When I graduate college – if I make it through college – he'll probably let me work all day so he can spend my money all night. He usually lets me do the boring things."

Anzu's blue eyes stared at him, and that look of horror was creeping back into them.

"I'm sorry," Ryou said hastily. "Too much information. What's the maths test on?"

Anzu looked like she wanted to argue, but after a second's hesitation she pulled her open book over in front of Ryou. "Differential equations."

Ryou looked at the page, and saw to some relief that he did indeed know how to solve most of its equations already. He thought it was a good thing he was smart, and that he'd started school here with a slight advantage thanks to the overlap between the British and Japanese school years. Otherwise, he'd probably already have failed out by now.

"Okay, where are you up to?" he asked Anzu.

* * *

><p>Four hours later, a librarian interrupted them. She was an older woman, with her hair in a bun – Ryou thought she looked like librarians were always supposed to but usually didn't. "I'm sorry," she said politely, "But the library is closing."<p>

"Oh!" Anzu's head snapped back from Ryou's, and she flushed.

It wasn't until that moment, when Anzu jumped away from him, that he noticed how close together they had been sitting. He was surprised that he'd been so absorbed in showing her equations that he hadn't even noticed that their knees had been touching. Ryou realised, with a flush of pleasure, that he'd totally lost track of time for once – and all on his own. He hadn't even noticed how hungry he felt, either. His stomach rumbled.

"We're so sorry, please excuse us. We'll pack up now," Anzu said.

The librarian smiled and moved off, beginning to turn off all the lights on the other study desks.

Anzu packed her books into her backpack.

Ryou realised that he didn't want to go home just yet. Maybe... Ryou cleared his throat. "Um... Anzu... Would you like to go get some dinner with me?"

Anzu started.

Ryou blushed. What had he just asked? Did she think he meant on a date? _Did_ he mean on a date?

Her reply was slow, and he didn't know whether that was good or bad. "Okay," she said eventually. "That sounds nice."

The two of them walked down the street until they found a pizza place that was still busy. Dinner went by far too quickly for Ryou and yet, paradoxically, he wondered every few minutes why the spirit was letting this go on for so long. By the time dinner was finished, Ryou was feeling more like himself than he had in ... well, longer than he cared to remember. Somehow, feeling courageous, he offered to walk Anzu home.

It was a warm night out.

"So," Ryou said, trying to cover the awkwardness when they reached her family's house. He'd never walked a girl home before. "Do you feel better about the test now?"

Anzu smiled. "Yes."

On impulse, hardly believing that he could dare, Ryou grabbed Anzu's hand. "Um, Anzu... Thank you for tonight."

There was that feeling of butterflies just under his skin, a pleasant kind of nervousness. Ryou wasn't used to feeling nervous in a good way. He didn't want to let Anzu walk inside her home and let the evening end. All of this could be torn away from him at any second, anyway.

Anzu looked down at their hands. After a moment, she squeezed his. "Don't be silly. You're the one who helped me study."

Ryou shook his head. "I mean, thank you... Because today was normal. I don't get a lot of normal just recently and... Well, this was better than normal. Anzu, you..." Ryou trailed off.

Anzu was staring at him with her teal-coloured eyes. She was looking at him like she'd never seen him before.

And then she kissed him. Her mouth was soft and warm, and Ryou almost didn't know how to respond. Her lips pressed against his, and then they parted slightly, and he felt her tongue in his mouth, gentle, and unsure. Their hands were still twined together, and Ryou used them to pull her closer. He could smell her apricot shampoo again.

After a few moments, he pulled back from her mouth, but rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. He didn't want to forget a second of this.

"Ryou," she breathed. "I – "

Suddenly, he didn't want to know what Anzu had to say. Ryou kissed her again – he kissed her several times, quickly, as if he was trying to figure out how she tasted, and then he crushed his mouth on hers more determinedly, harder than she'd kissed him – but not too much harder. He used his tongue the way she'd just used hers, softly, gently.

Anzu seemed to dissolve against him. Ryou had always felt somehow dwarfed by Anzu – she was tall, and graceful, and confident. Tilting his face down like this, it was odd to suddenly realise that she was ever so slightly shorter than him. The realisation encouraged him further. Ryou liked the way she felt in his arms, pliant and trusting. Their bodies were crushed together and Ryou knew that if they continued much longer, his desire was going to become very, very apparent to her. But he couldn't seem to pull his mouth away from hers.

And then he heard it. The sound echoed in his ears like some kind of horrible nightmare that clung to your mind even after you awoke.

Bakura was laughing.

He sounded half-crazed, like he was positively filled with an evil glee. The laughter reverberated inside Ryou's skull until he thought he might go deaf.

Ryou shoved Anzu away from him.

She stumbled back, and stared at him, eyes going wide. "What...?"

"I can't," he said.

"I don't understand." Anzu blushed from – outrage? Embarrassment? Humiliation?

"I'm so sorry, Anzu. I just can't."

Ryou ran. He ran down the steps and into the darkness even as it swallowed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**My sincere apologies **that this took so long to post. I have two excuses. The first is that between posting last chapter and this one, I moved from Australia to Illinois on exchange, so understandably, I've been a little busy (TAS Bandit Keith: AMERICA!). The second is that your reviews were so amazing that I have been entirely intimidated by them, and been eaten up with worry that the rest of this story might not live up to your expectations. I'm sorry it took a while, and god, I hope that it does.

It's going to be three parts. I saved the juicy/explicit stuff for part three. The last chapter is shorter, and won't take so long to edit, I promise.

* * *

><p><strong>The Definition of Love<strong>

**Part Two.**

* * *

><p>"She's seen us," Malik said.<p>

Bakura cocked one eyebrow. "And?"

"She's coming over."

The two of them sat in the restaurant where Anzu worked part-time. Bakura had decided it was time they all had a little chat. He sat with his back to Mazaki while Malik did the looking-out.

"She looks happy," Malik added.

Interesting. Bakura hadn't taken over right away, when Ryou had run away like a little bitch a few days earlier. He'd let him get all the way home and place that pathetic, apologetic phone call. He didn't really know why Ryou had bothered to call the girl at all. All he'd had said was, "I really like you Anzu, but I can't explain." And for some reason, Mazaki had let it slide. You'd think the girl could figure it out for herself. How dumb was she, anyway?

Anzu stopped in front of their table, and he took great delight in the way her smile faded as she glanced back and forth between him and Malik. He watched her take in his and Malik's feet, and the way their ankles were intertwined beneath the table. And when she looked back up into into his face, he saw the delicious moment that she realised he wasn't who she'd wanted to see.

Bakura grinned at her, baring sharp teeth. "Hello, prima ballerina. Why don't you sit down?"

"I'm not allowed to sit with customers," Anzu responded primly.

"I said sit the fuck down!" he snarled, and he slammed the table top with his palm.

Anzu sat down so fast, it seemed that she had found herself seated beside Malik before she even realised what she was doing.

"What do you want?" she spat. Her blue eyes practically sparked like blowtorch flames.

Bakura leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. He was amused that she was so angry so quickly. He liked a good fight and it looked like Mazaki might give him one. Would it break her spirit dealing with him, or would she keep on fighting like poor little Ryou? That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. He wasn't sure which answer he'd prefer, yet.

"I think it's time you and I had a little chat, kitten," he said.

He paused to watch Malik reassuringly pat the girl on the shoulder. Oh, so Malik wanted to play good-cop, bad-cop? Well, cops and tomb-robbers _was_ one of Malik's favourite bedroom games. Nothing like a good pair of handcuffs.

"You see, we have a bit of a problem. It's come to my attention that you like my host body, here." Bakura casually, slowly ran his hands down the front of his torso, and watched with some pleasure as Anzu's eyes followed them down, all the way down to his crotch.

She jerked her gaze back up to his face again, and she was even angrier, blushing now. Just the way Bakura wanted her.

"I like _Ryou_," she corrected.

"And it would seem that Ryou likes _you_. Unfortunately for the two of you... I don't. I think you're an annoying little goody-two-shoes."

Anzu narrowed her big baby-blues at him. "What do you care? What business is it of yours?"

From his position opposite the two of them, Bakura saw Malik hide a grin at Anzu's naiveté. "Well, darling, I do live here, too," he said.

"You're a parasite!" she burst out. "You have no right to - "

"Uh, uh uh," Malik interrupted. He waggled his finger at her.

Anzu turned to him in surprise. "What – "

"I wouldn't say things like that, if I were you. I don't think you'd like Bakura when he gets _really_ angry."

Anzu pursed her lips.

"What do you think I am, the fucking Hulk?" Bakura snarled at Malik. He paused for a moment, and composed himself. "It's true," he continued a moment later, "It doesn't _have_ to be my business. I could just let Ryou run around and do what he likes, and lock myself away in his head while he has all the fun he wants. But I'm not going to."

He watched Anzu try to process that.

"Do you get it?" he hissed. "I'm not going to. Why should I? I don't like floating around in nothingness. I'm in here, Anzu. I'm _always_ in here."

Anzu's breath hitched. Oh, so she _was_ getting it, after all.

"That's what your lovely little Ryou can't bring himself to tell you." Bakura smirked. He could feel Ryou inside his head right now, bitching away. Hell, when he thought they should all have a talk together, he meant it. Wasn't it only fair that Ryou got to participate in this conversation too? Or at least, to watch it unfold.

"_I'm always in here._ Everything you do with him... You're doing with me."

Anzu looked sick, and Bakura took a sick pleasure in the way Ryou reacted to that. His internal clamour was hilarious. Bakura laughed out loud, though it probably seemed apropos of nothing to Anzu. Well, it wouldn't be the first time someone thought he was crazy.

"Don't worry," Malik said with a pleasant smile. "The opposite isn't true. Ryou doesn't usually know what Bakura's doing with me."

Bakura laughed again. This was why he kept going back to Malik. He'd kind of liked sharing Ryou's head with him during the tournament. Malik was a simmering mess of good intentions, guilt and rage. He never said anything without thinking through its implications, yet he made it impossible for most people to tell what he meant when he spoke. Was he trying to be nice, or was he being deliberately malicious? Did Malik even know, himself? Probably. Did he have an agenda? Definitely. Bakura didn't really care what it was; the puzzle was enough of an attraction in and of itself.

Anzu swallowed and the sound was audible from across the table. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why..." Bakura said, feigning surprise. "Didn't you want to know? Ryou wanted to tell you, but he pussied out. So I'm doing it for him. Wouldn't you rather know _why_ he'll never touch you again?"

Anzu glared at him, but he could see that now her anger was a front for the tears welling in her eyes. "You're horrible," she said.

"Ooh. God. I'm _horrible_. Now you've hurt my feelings. I might never recover."

Anzu leapt up from the table and stormed off toward the kitchen. Bakura watched her storm off, thinking that even if she was an idiot, he appreciated her spark. And the view of her walking away wasn't bad, either.

Malik stood up on the opposite side of the table. "My turn," he murmured. He caressed Bakura's shoulder lightly as he walked past, following after Anzu.

* * *

><p>Anzu stopped before she reached the kitchen, in the staff corridor just out of sight from the restaurant. She shuddered, trying to suppress her tears and her outrage. This was insane. What was she doing? She was stupid to have kissed Ryou at all. She <em>knew<em> what was going on with him. Why couldn't she just be his friend and leave it at that?

He'd just looked so lonely and lost. She couldn't help it – it made her want to make him feel better.

And with Yugi gone, things weren't the same at school, either. She knew he'd had to go with his grandfather to Egypt for the semester, but the dynamic wasn't the same, and Jounouchi and Honda were so boisterous and well... Such boys.

She felt lonely, too.

It wasn't like it had come out of nowhere. I mean, you'd have to be blind not to notice that Ryou was cute. Even kind of handsome. Adorable, white-haired foreign exchange students tended to stand out at any school, and when he'd first arrived at Domino High all the girls in her grade had been in a fluster for weeks. But he was always so shy. And anyway, she'd had eyes only for Yugi, so what did it matter? But Yugi wasn't here, and she'd realised that day last week when Ryou had crashed into her, landed on her... He was... Well, _lovely_. The crashing aside, he was so sweet, and considerate. And when she'd kissed him, she'd felt a spark – she'd felt herself light up. She'd stopped feeling lonely, too.

But it had been like sticking her hand in a flame, and this was just seven shades of messed up. And she couldn't just abandon Ryou, but she didn't know if she wanted to deal with this. How was she supposed to help him? They were friends, but they didn't know each other that well. The problem was... She wanted to know him better. She really did.

"There, there," a voice said. Malik gathered her up in a hug. "It's not so bad."

Anzu shoved him off. "How do you figure _that_?" she retorted.

Malik was nonplussed. He stared at her, his expression mild, and Anzu felt uncomfortable. She'd barely spoken to him since he'd been... Redeemed. Cleansed of his sins, and all that jazz. It seemed like he'd been racking up some new ones. He looked the same as before, cargo pants, loose singlet top that barely covered his stomach, with a black hooded cardigan tossed on. Still wearing too much jewellery. Was that eyeliner? He really looked almost... Pretty.

"Well, Bakura could have just said he was never going to let you see Ryou again. But he didn't, did he?"

"Right, because I'm sure messing with us is much more fun for him!"

Malik's eyes narrowed. Had he thought she wouldn't figure that out? How dumb did they think she was? Then Malik smiled again. "Perhaps. But, you know, in his own way, Bakura likes his host."

"Bullshit," Anzu snapped.

"In his own way," Malik repeated. "I mean, regardless of what else he is, Bakura is definitely a narcissist... Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want Ryou to give up _all_ hope. Then there'd be no hope left to crush."

Anzu gasped. "Oh, god. You're just as horrible as he is."

Malik merely laughed. "Oh, now, I wouldn't go that far." He took a step towards Anzu, pressing her back against the wall. Anzu held her breath as he moved invasively closer. "Think about it. Bakura is willing to let you be together, if you want."

"If I want him along for the ride, you mean!"

"For the _ride_! Well, that's certainly one way of putting it!"

Anzu felt herself blushing again, and it made her even angrier.

Malik shrugged, and the movement was casual, light. "He's offering you a deal. Personally, I'd take it. It's no worse than the deal I've made."

"And what's that?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're not the only one here who has to share that body."

Anzu stared up into Malik's alarmingly-close purple eyes. "You... You and Bakura are really...?" she whispered.

And then, to her shock, Malik leaned in and brushed her lips softly with his own. After a second of confusion, of hesitation, a moment just long enough to taste the warm spiciness of his mouth, she shoved at him again.

"Get off!"

Malik stopped kissing her, but only barely moved away from her, keeping Anzu backed against the wall. He was smirking, and she wondered if his soft, thin lips had been smirking even as he kissed her. "Come on, now," he said. "You've kissed him. I've kissed him. It's like we've already kissed anyway."

"You didn't kiss the same one I did!" Anzu said through clenched teeth.

Malik sighed. He stepped back, after what seemed like an eternity, and he ran his hand through his hair. Anzu was suddenly sure that as he did so, he knew he was showing off the muscles in his arms, his lean body – showing off a glimpse of his smooth, tanned stomach as his shirt lifted slightly.

"Weren't you listening out there, Anzu? Bakura is _always in there._ If you think you haven't kissed him already, you're just in denial."

Anzu felt like her head might explode. She couldn't take much more of this. It was bad enough that she couldn't stop herself feeling attracted to Ryou's body when he wasn't even in it – Bakura's little flirtation had proved that much, and she was pretty sure he knew it. That Malik was standing here trying to seduce her – and half-way succeeding – was enough to make her want to throw up.

"Just go away," she whispered.

"Here's how it goes," Malik ignored her request. "You can have Ryou if you want him. You can even go on dates alone together. Whatever. But any time it gets serious – any time you two get hot and heavy and you start caressing that beautiful alabaster body of his – you're not going to be alone with Ryou. Not at all. And by the way... I'm generous, but not that generous. If you expect me to miss out on you fucking Bakura, you've got another thing coming."

It's so to-the-point bold and vulgar that Anzu blanched. She felt almost dizzy at the speed she changed from blushing and furious to pale and horrified.

"One last thing..." Malik stepped in close to her again, and Anzu couldn't muster the will to push him away a third time. This was really too much. She felt weak in the knees, and was angry at herself for being so – so pathetic.

Malik breathed into her ear, "Not that it's _really_ your problem, but won't Ryou be so sad when he finds out that no one is ever going to want to be with him badly enough to live with this? So much for friends. Or for love."

Malik stared into Anzu's eyes. She felt like she was in the view of a cobra: she felt mesmerised, numb. He brushed her lips again with his own, just the barest of teasing kisses, and then he walked away.

Anzu stared after him for a second. That manipulative bastard. Then she snapped out of it. With a yell, she punched the wall next to her.

"Ah!" She grabbed her fist with her other hand. It stung like hell. Hitting walls – okay, bad idea.

It would be easier to believe that Malik was influencing her than that she'd actually just let him kiss her – twice. But even as she thought that, she knew that it wasn't the case. She'd felt Malik in her head before, and it was a hell of a lot more invasive than a pair of lips. Maybe it didn't help her fight him off now, knowing what he _could_ do even if she did fight him – but that didn't mean he was really going to do it. Her nerve had failed her, damnit. And whatever he was up to now, she didn't for a second believe that he'd use the power which scared him so much, which he'd vowed in front of them all never to use again. So what did he want?

And what on earth was she going to do about it all? Well, first she had to finish her shift at work. Then she'd deal with everything else in life. Deal with practical problems first – and with a gasp, Anzu realised it had been a good twenty minutes since she'd checked on any of her tables. She ran back out into the restaurant.

* * *

><p>Ryou pushed violently at Malik. "Get off!"<p>

"Oh, great," Malik said. "Nice to see you again, too."

"I said, get off me," Ryou hissed.

"You know, when you use that tone of voice, you sound _just like him_."

Ryou felt like he might scream.

"Relax, would you? It was only a kiss. Figures Bakura would let me get you all the way home and then turn the tables." Malik sighed and rolled away.

Ryou looked around. He was in his own home, to his surprise. On his own bed.

"You... Do you come over here often?" he asked Malik.

Malik shrugged. "Often enough."

Fantastic. Someone was frequently in his house when he didn't even know about it. "How can you let him do this?" Ryou demanded.

Malik raised his eyebrows. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't _let_ him do anything. You should know better than anyone how that goes."

"But you're actually _helping_ him mess with her!"

Malik sat up. He moved away, to the far side of the bed. "Ryou. This may come as some surprise to you, but I like you. I don't know you very well, but I can appreciate the situation you're in... And I also appreciate the body you're in."

Ryou huffed but said nothing.

"What exactly do you think is going to happen here? How do you think this is going to go on? There are two of you in one body, and that isn't about to change. And while I like you just fine, you delicious little creampuff, I don't think you are quite as enamoured of _my_ charms."

Malik looked Ryou up and down, in a mock assessment.

"No? Well, so. I'd be willing to share with you, but you're not interested in me. You'd probably come across one day," Marik paused to give him a smile just knowing enough that it made Ryou blush. "...But that's assuming Bakura wants to share me with you. Bakura has me, but you have no one. Your options are either to continue to have no one for the rest of your life, or be willing to share whoever you do get. And trust me, even if Anzu dumps you – us – this will come up again with someone else, one day. Might as well accept it now."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ryou shouted. "Are you telling me that my choice is to either be alone forever in my own head, or live in some kind of fucked up threesome – FOURsome!" he corrected.

Malik just grinned. "Well, well. You're cute when you're angry, dandelion. You should let it out more often." He got up and pulled his shirt back on, covering those strange scars – things hadn't gotten farther than that, to Ryou's confusion and relief. Malik stopped in the doorway, on his way out.

"Look, Ryou. You can either think of this as a fucked up foursome that you're stuck with, or... You can think of it as more variety than most people are blessed with in life."

"Variety! Is that supposed to be some substitute for... For..." Ryou trailed off.

"For love?" Malik guessed. "It depends on what your definition of love is. I know how to define mine. But you're not sure yet."

Ryou's voice was only a whisper. "But... I barely even know Anzu. How can I possibly ask something like this of her?"

"Ah, well, that's the thing. You don't have to. _Lucky _for you, Bakura already has." Malik winked at him, and vanished through the door.

Lucky? LUCKY? Ryou laughed, and it sounded disturbingly crazy – disturbingly like the other one's laugh.

* * *

><p>It was nearly a week before Anzu could make herself show up. She stood outside Ryou's apartment, thinking she ought to just go home and never come back. But she knew that she wouldn't. She'd already made up her mind, almost, or she wouldn't have gone there at all.<p>

She rang the buzzer. There was no answer. She rang it again, and again, getting worried.

Finally there was static on the line. No one said anything.

"Ryou? It's Anzu. Please let me in."

The door buzzed and she went into the building.

Ryou answered his apartment door, out of breath. It was clear he'd been frantically cleaning as she climbed the stairs. The windows were open, and the cold autumn wind scoured the rooms. As Anzu followed Ryou inside she noticed, with a pang, that those rooms were surprisingly empty – some furniture, but none of the usual clutter of someone's life that accumulated when they lived by themselves. The lone piece of decoration on the walls was from an English movie that Anzu didn't even recognise - a weird cartoon, but not an anime.

"Anzu... I don't even know where to begin," Ryou said. There were dark circles under his eyes. "Um... Well... I'm sorry," he eventually blurted. "I am so, so sorry. I'm sorry that they came to your work, I'm sorry they were so awful to you, I'm sorry that they tried to manipulate you, I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry that I like you so much, or Bakura never would have taken an interest. I'm just sorry, okay?"

Anzu blinked. It might have been the most animated she'd ever seen Ryou. It'd be cute, if he weren't so obviously distressed. As it was, it made her chest ache a little. She took a deep breath. "Ryou, it's okay."

Ryou looked at her, miserable and a little suspicious.

"I've been thinking a lot the past few days. I know none of that was your fault."

Ryou hung his head now, shook it slightly. It seemed like he didn't agree; like he blamed himself an awful lot. Which was just wrong.

Anzu stared at him for a minute, then decided to forge on. "I like you a lot, too, Ryou." Ryou didn't lift his head. She wondered what expression was on his face. "This is just... Pretty intense, okay? It's a lot to process."

Ryou's shoulders seemed to be hunching more and more, like he was withdrawing into himself, and Anzu realised she wasn't saying this right. Or he wasn't hearing it right. Or something.

"Ryou? Are you listening? I said... I like you a lot."

"You're too kind," Ryou murmured.

"What? No, I..."

Ryou lifted his head, and Anzu coould see that his brown eyes were dark with unshed tears. "No, you are. You came here today to tell me these things in person, and... That's so brave. Especially when you know that any moment, I might not be the person you're telling them too. I really admire you, Anzu, and I respect you too. And I understand."

Anzu wrinkled her nose. "Uh, I don't think you do."

"What?"

"Ryou. What I came here to say is... Well, I don't quite _know_ what to do."

"You... Aren't here to... Well... Dump me? I mean, you haven't decided to yet?" Ryou's voice was flat, but Anzu had the sense that it was more from repressed emotion than any lack of feeling.

She wondered if you could consider being plowed over in the street and then one pizza dinner "dating"... But then she remembered those kisses at her front door, and the feeling of emptiness as he ran off that night... And the horror, and the outrage, and the absolute sorrow she felt when she heard Bakura's choice little revelation, made just to taunt her.

"I haven't decided. I mean, I don't think I know. I'm almost sure. I think..." Anzu took a deep breath. "I think if you kiss me again, I'll know for sure."

Ryou's expression was just about heartbreaking. He whispered, "I can't. He'll know... If I do."

Anzu tried to sift through her feelings. It felt like they were forming into a lump in her middle – hope, and anxiety, and desire, and fear, all at once.

"I know," she said. "I don't care."

"But..."

"Ryou," she interrupted. "I said I don't care. So are you going to embarrass me by making me stand here, or are you going to kiss me already?"

Ryou flushed beet red, and she knew she'd picked the right words –made it sound as if it would be unbearably rude of Ryou _not_ to kiss her. And he couldn't possibly live with that.

Cheeks red, Ryou looked nervous, but all of a sudden he didn't act like it. All of a sudden he closed the gap between them, and almost crushed her in his arms. When he kissed her, Anzu felt like her legs might drop out from under her.

What was it? It wasn't pity, though she knew part of it was that she couldn't bear to leave Ryou to suffer alone. Couldn't bear for him to think that he wasn't worth fighting for. It wasn't fear, though she knew, deep down, despite herself, that part of her thrilled with anxiety that Bakura, too, was touching her right now. Those feelings were all tangled up with the warm expressiveness of Ryou's eyes, and his perfect skin, and his amazing, soft, wild white hair. But wasn't just that she found him unbearably attractive, either.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, and even though Ryou was inexperienced, she could feel him pacing himself with her – paying attention to how she kissed him, and returning the favour. The result was that his kisses, though cautious, were amazing, because he was kissing her just the way she loved to kiss.

That was it. It was just him. Everything Ryou lived with – everything he was put through – and he still cared whether he was polite. He still listened patiently to her talk about her own trivial problems, like her dance recital. After everything, Ryou still cared how she felt. He still paid attention to what she wanted, and who she was.

She didn't really know him, not really – but she could see the person that Ryou _was _at his core. He wasn't weak. He was amazingly strong. The kind of strength you couldn't turn away from. The kind of strength that deserved to be rewarded.

Eventually, Ryou pulled away from her. "Was that... Did that help?"

From anyone else, it would be a leer, a jest. Ryou was totally serious.

Anzu broke into a smile. "Yes," she said. "That helped. Let's date, Ryou."

In a rush, Ryou sat down on the floor, dazed, like his legs had been weak that whole time too. "But..."

Anzu laughed, but was a kind laugh, she hoped. She knelt down beside him. "I don't care. Let's not worry about all that. Let's just... See how it goes for a little while, okay?"

Ryou looked like he almost couldn't speak. But then he smiled – one of the biggest smiles she'd ever seen. "Okay," he said.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, Malik was dragging Bakura down the street toward Anzu's house, his hand firmly wrapped around the spirit's.<p>

"Remind me again why the fuck I agreed to this?"

"Because," Malik threw a glance back at him. "Anzu called me up and asked us out on a date. You think I'm passing up that opportunity?"

"Why not? Are you trying to get her to fuck _you_ or something?" Bakura said with a good measure of derision.

"I wouldn't kick her out of bed."

Bakura used Malik's grip on his hand to wrench him around.

"Hey!" Bakura yanked Malik in close. "If you think for one second – "

Malik just laughed in his face. "Would you chill out? I said I wouldn't kick her out of bed! That is the plan, after all, isn't it? I didn't say it was my _goal_ to have sex with her. But it's sweet that you're so jealous."

Bakura tried to halt the rage that threatened to spin out of control. Sometimes Malik's little barbs provoked him so close to smacking the boy across the face that he didn't know how he restrained himself. The only answer was that Bakura _did_ once hit him in a fit of anger, and only once. It had spun Malik right around and knocked him into the wall. And few moments later, Malik had calmly responded from the floor that if he ever did that again, Malik would grab the nearest kitchen knife, give Bakura a series of creative tattoos of his own to bear, and walk out the door forever – a little sadomasochism was one thing, but plain ol' domestic abuse was another.

Bakura had believed him. And strangely, Malik walking out the door was... A thought he didn't like. Not one bit.

He counted to ten, now. "So what is your goal, then?"

Malik grinned and used his free hand to grab Bakura's belt, pulling him closer. "Why, obviously, to fuck _you_. In new and exciting ways."

Typical. Bakura wanted a straight answer, but not so quickly that he would interrupt when Malik kissed him. He let Malik press him up against the neighbourhood fence, and was happy to groan when Malik's hands dropped to his hips; when Malik pulled him close and ground their pelvises together.

But not for too long. Couldn't be late for their date.

Bakura detangled himself. "Malik," he warned.

"Oh, come on. Bakura, this little scheme of yours is never going to happen if we don't spend any quality time with Ms Mazaki. She's all over Ryou. You know that. But she wants to know more about us. She's curious."

"You know what they say about curiosity and cats." Bakura narrowed his eyes.

Malik grinned impishly. "Don't get carried away."

"Oh, whatever." Bakura sighed. "Fine, let's just get this over with. But I don't see why we have to go to the motherfucking _zoo_."

"It was her suggestion. Anyway, can't you think of some way to keep yourself entertained? I'm sure Ryou will make an endearing amount of noise in there if you let him watch us flirt with her."

Bakura cocked his head. Well, that might be amusing for a while. Anyway, it wasn't like he had anything better to do today.

"Fine, let's go then. How far away is this stupid house of hers?"

"Just around the corner."

Malik was about to ring Anzu's doorbell when Bakura leaned over and whispered, "By the way... Don't think I don't know that _you_ suggested the zoo."

"What can I say? I like all the sweet little baby animals."

"You like screwing with me."

"Yes," Malik said happily. "I sure do."

Bakura found the whole thing excruciating. For starters, it was a weekend, and the god damned zoo was full of families. Families with children. Bakura hated children. He especially hated them with balloons. He hated them with hot dogs. He hated them with paper hats shaped like elephants perched on their stupid, bulbous child-heads.

"But I want another hot dog," Malik whined from under his own elephant hat.

"When I get you home, I am going to teach you a lesson about why you will never take me to a zoo again, and you won't walk for a week."

Behind them, Anzu sighed. "So... You're just going to reward his bad behaviour?"

Bakura whirled on her. "Who the fuck asked your opinion?"

Inside his head, Ryou bitched about speaking so rudely to her. Seemed like the little coward had finally regained some semblance of his nerve. Well, something in him had certainly been more _rigid_ lately where Anzu was concerned. Bakura snorted to himself.

Outside his head, Anzu snapped back, "Watch your language, there are children everywhere."

Oh, please. They were so perfect for each other it made him want to murder something.

"As if I give a fuck!" he responded.

"Bakura," Malik said, his voice patronising. "If you can't control yourself, we really will have to take you home again."

"I am going to slit your throat and bathe in the blood," Bakura hissed at him. "And then I'm going to fuck your corpse."

Malik just smiled. "You say the sweetest things." He slipped his hand into Bakura's.

Anzu threw her hands up in exasperation. "What the heck is wrong with both of you?"

Bakura turned to stare at her. At the same time, Malik turned his eyes on her, too. Anzu flinched under their combined gaze.

"You're the one who thinks she can _get to know us_," Bakura responded. "Us. You know - the ones who tried to kill your best friends rather recently. What's wrong with _you?_"

"Clearly," she muttered, "I am terminally an idiot." Anzu stomped off towards the tiger exhibit.

"Bakura," Malik tugged on his hand, and stopped him in wooden cut out of a smiling crocodile. "This isn't going to work if you keep acting like an insane sociopath."

Bakura's head throbbed. "And just what do you want me to do?"

"Seduce her, you idiot. We're supposed to seduce her. It shouldn't be that hard for you, I know you like her spunk."

Inside his head, Ryou muttered something indiscernible but annoyed, yet again.

Bakura gave Malik an eyeful, and leaned in close. "I like yours better. I like it all over me."

Malik snorted with laughter. "Pervert, move your ass. If we don't follow her we'll lose her in the crowd. Stop acting like a child."

"Takes one to know one, elephant-head," Bakura muttered. Why the hell had he started this whole thing, again? The pharaoh might have been out of town, but did that really make him this desperate for amusement? Why was he letting this hold up all his other plans? He suppressed a sigh. "Anzu." He stepped in next to her, where she watched a group of baby tigers play.

"Yes?"

He pretended to hesitate as he stared at the frolicking cats. "...Ryou thinks those tigers are adorable."

Ryou did, in fact, think that, but he hadn't expressed any wish for Bakura to tell that to Anzu. Ryou's feelings of annoyance were getting irritating. _Shut the fuck up for a while, or I will shut you up_, he warned, mentally.

Anzu's steely eyes softened a little. "Is he okay in there?"

Bakura shrugged.

"What does that mean?"

"It means YES, you insufferable woman."

"Well, excuse me for caring!"

Instead of letting Anzu huff away again, he snaked an arm around her waist and drew her in, to his side.

She sighed but didn't struggle. "Let go."

"No. Keep watching your tigers."

After a moment or so, Bakura felt her relax. It was almost pathetically easy. She had so much fire, and yet was so willing to be drawn in by any sign of good will. She and Ryou deserved each other, the morons.

As Anzu relaxed, Bakura turned his head slightly and exhaled on her neck. To all appearances, he was innocently watching the tigers. But he felt Anzu shiver in response. It was cheating, of course – and he was an excellent cheater. He already knew that Anzu loved it when Ryou breathed on her neck.

Ryou should have been howling in outrage by now, but instead, he was sitting quietly as asked. Good. This was why Bakura kept him locked out most of the time when he was in charge – the boy's conscientious commentary was overwhelmingly tedious. If he'd just shut up like this more often, Bakura might let him observe a little more.

The thought sort of surprised him. Well, fuck it. So what? He knew what it was like to be trapped away – a little understanding about it from him wasn't a crazy idea. He'd been locked in a ring for thousands of years, after all.

On second thoughts... Bakura narrowed his eyes. Ryou should be much more grateful for the little time he _ever_ had in charge, at least for the next thousand years. Anyway, Ryou probably wouldn't appreciate the view most of the time even if he could see what Bakura was doing.

But at this particular moment, Ryou seemed stupidly content just to feel Anzu pressed against the line of his body. Even if he wasn't in charge of it. Good god, if she didn't come across soon, his host would probably go insane from pent-up sexual frustration. Not that Ryou would ever admit it, even to himself. Even now he was emanating a prissy feeling of denial at Bakura's thoughts.

Bakura stood still while Malik sidled up on Anzu's other side. He felt Anzu stiffen when Malik took Anzu's hand. But Malik didn't say anything, either, and in another moment she relaxed again.

Bakura's arm reached right around her tiny waist. He moved his fingers slowly to caress her hip bone on the farthest side.

"Oh, for god's sake." Anzu shoved both of them off her abruptly.

Bakura gave a low chuckle. "Something disturb you, my dear?"

"No," she said. Her tone was curt.

"For a moment there, you seemed quite happy to be pressed between the two of us."

Anzu didn't answer. Bingo.

"Let's go get an ice cream!" Malik burst out.

Oh, for god's sake.

Anzu turned to him, startled. "Huh?"

"Come on!"

Bakura expected Malik to grab Anzu's hand and drag her off, but instead he grabbed Bakura's own.

Bakura opened his mouth to protest in a way that would irreparably enlarge the vocabulary of every child within hearing range, but Malik hissed, "Quiet. She's watching us." Fine. He could go along with this for a few minutes, at least.

Anzu's eyes were on them as Malik ordered and paid for three ice creams. Malik walked over and handed one to Anzu, before returning to Bakura.

"What's the magic word?" Malik teased lightly, holding Bakura's ice cream just out of reach.

"Asshole?" suggested Bakura.

"Close, but not quite." Malik licked his own ice cream and the move was awfully suggestive.

"How about, 'Give me that fucking ice cream or I'll rip out your spine'?"

Malik only laughed in response, which was all Bakura had expected. He handed Bakura his cone of triple chocolate fudge, but before Bakura could take a bite, Malik leaned in and kissed him. Malik's tongue was cold from the ice cream, and Bakura liked the way it felt, chilled and slippery. He could just about eat Malik from the mouth down. After a long moment, he felt his own ice cream begin to run down his cone and onto his wrist.

He pulled back from Malik, and Malik snuck in another bite of his vanilla, grinning. Bakura shrugged. He tossed his entire cone over his shoulder and grabbed Malik with both hands, around his waist, wrapped his arms around him, pulled him in and tasted the vanilla flavour in Malik's mouth. It tasted sweeter than any ice cream possibly could.

When Bakura pulled back this time, he stepped back too. Malik winked at him. "That's more like it," he said quietly. Bakura was about to ask what he meant, when Malik gave a meaningful look over Bakura's shoulder. Bakura turned around. Well, well. Anzu had apparently been staring at them the whole time, ice cream clearly forgotten in her own hand, which was a sticky mess. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was a perfect 'o' of surprise. Inside Bakura's head, where Bakura had entirely forgotten about him, Ryou just felt confused by the whole thing.

Bakura began to laugh. The harsh sound startled Anzu, who quickly looked away. She was obviously embarrassed. Bakura turned back to Malik.

"You are one devious son of a bitch."

"Thanks," Malik said. "But I'm not buying you another ice cream if you just throw them on the ground like that." He grabbed Bakura's hand and walked him back over to Anzu.

She was extremely invested in her own ice cream now.

"So, Anzu," Malik said. "Are you ready to go home?"


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING: This chapter contains VERY adult material. Consider yourself told.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The Definition of Love.<strong>

**Part Three.**

* * *

><p>Ryou and Anzu were watching a dvd in his apartment, but he was having trouble concentrating. She was curled in at his side, head on his shoulder, and he was far more aware of her than anything that was happening in the action movie on the tv screen. He stared straight ahead at it nonetheless, trying to make an effort to be normal.<p>

It was a rainy weekend afternoon. The weather was beating at the windows. Perfect weather for staying indoors.

"Ryou?" she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Why do _you_ think they're doing this?"

Ryou winced – and was relieved she couldn't see his expression. "I wish you wouldn't ask me."

Anzu raised her head, a frown on her face. "Why not?"

"Because... I never know when he's listening in. And if you ask me, then I think about it, and if I think about it, he's going to know what I think."

The frown didn't leave her lips. "But he can't hear you, um... When you're in..."

"When I'm... in the soul room?" It sounded silly saying it out loud, even though he, and surely Yuugi, had explained to her before how it worked.

"Yeah."

Ryou shifted, and with his free hand, he laced his fingers through Anzu's.

"I don't think so. Because the point is he's cut me off."

Anzu's frown deepened, but he knew now it was because she was annoyed with herself for not reasoning out the obvious. "Right. Sorry."

"No, it's... You can ask me about these things."

"So you think it would be bad – if he knew what you thought about it? You can't tell me you somehow just _don't_ think about it."

Ryou sighed again, and this time he rested his head on her shoulder. It gave him a surprisingly good view of her chest, which really just made Ryou feel more uncomfortable. But he couldn't bring himself to move. "I don't think he wants me psycho-analyzing either of them. I don't think he'd be amused at all."

Anzu snorted. "Well, tough. I think – "

"No," Ryou interrupted. "Don't tell me. I don't want him knowing what you think. Not about him, and especially not about Malik."

He felt Anzu shift restlessly underneath him. "This is ridiculous. I'm not going to not tell _you_ my feelings about things just so _he_ won't know. Otherwise, how will you ever know anything about me?"

Ryou squeezed Anzu's hand. "You're pretty brave, you know. I think it's kind of like – what do they say on American crime shows? 'Anything you say can and will be used against you'?"

Anzu laughed, but he was sure she didn't feel as light-hearted as she sounded. "Look, I refuse to let an ancient spirit dictate what I will and won't say to my boyfriend. Even if he is an evil bastard. Either he'll keep to the deal, in which case he _knows_ that he can't control what I think or say... Or he's just been toying with us the entire time, in which case it doesn't matter what I do anyway. If I want to be with you, that's the risk I'm taking."

Ryou raised his head and looked her in the eyes. She really had no idea how brave her tenacity was. He leaned in and kissed her softly – something that, though they kept doing it, somehow still felt extraordinary to him.

She smiled at him after, but he said, "Don't underestimate him, Anzu. I see some of what goes on in here, and... It's rather terrifying at the best of times."

Anzu pursed her lips. "He tried to – to kill my friends, Ryou. I'm not going to forget that. There's a lot of things I can't forget about either of them. But I'm not going to live my life worrying about what they might do next. Bakura has to have some redeeming point, somewhere."

Ryou stared at her. He wanted to argue, but something made him hold back a little. She was right, but she was still so wrong. For all his vile, immoral, harmful acts, Bakura had never actually, _really_ hurt him. Cuts and bruises were one thing. But he'd never purposefully left Ryou in real danger, unless that danger was shared and unavoidable. He had an acerbic tongue and an incredible temper, but though he was mean, he wasn't _abusive_ in the real sense of the word. At least, not to him.

And yet she _was_ wrong. You couldn't trust him. Not at all. Not to do anything nice or noble or good, or anything that made sense. Bakura was perverse in every sense of the word. Ryou knew he, himself, was changing because of all this – for the first time in a long time, he felt that his hope might actually be rewarded with something. Just this was – well, it was worth it. To be here, like this, with Anzu. To have some time alone. To have some sense of control, even if was largely an illusion. He was gaining confidence. But he didn't trust the fact that Bakura was _letting_ him – the spirit had liked him to be compliant. Hadn't he? And Ryou would never trust Bakura. He'd woken up too many times in strange places, been used in too many awkward and unfair situations, been manipulated too many times. Ryou had thought he'd lost his dignity quite some time ago, and he wasn't sure that the possibility of regaining it was a good thing for him.

For example, to make Anzu understand all of this, he'd have to tell her about those times. And he – he didn't want to. There were some things he would always be flustered by – normal, social interactions, for example. Bakura didn't exactly give him much practice at those. But there were other, stranger things that would embarrass most people, things that he had lost the will to be embarrassed about himself. Almost any sense of privacy was gone, for one thing. Maybe that was why he clung so fiercely to manners, to politeness. And he didn't want to explain the things that Bakura had done, and then to see Anzu feel embarrassed _for_ him.

All he could say was, "He'll try again, Anzu."

He could tell from the expression on her face, she didn't quite believe it. No... She knew it was true, but she didn't _want_ to believe it. She was just so determined to be optimistic, and he didn't want to take that away from her, either. Anzu without her stubborn optimism... Well, she wouldn't be Anzu.

Anzu shrugged. "Remember, he's not the only one we're dealing with. And I think..." Anzu shook her head. "No, nevermind."

Ryou immediately wanted to ask her what she wanted to say. But he bit down on his tongue, instead. Given the conversation, it was obviously something he'd just told her not to say out loud. And anyway, there was an unspoken silence between them on the subject of Malik, as if he were so unpredictable there was no point even starting to think about it. Ryou squeezed Anzu's hand again, and turned back to the film.

After a moment, however, Anzu grabbed the remote, and switched off the screen. He turned to ask her what the matter was, but instead her lips met his. Oh. Okay. Confused as he might be about everything else, when they started kissing, the feel of Anzu in his arms Ryou was more than enough to forget about it all, at least for a little while.

* * *

><p>Bakura stared at the shadowy corners of the ceiling where even the faintest light disappeared into nothingness. He lay on his back in Malik's bed, one arm bent, hand under his head. The other arm was around Malik, who had curled into his side, head on his chest. The boy was asleep. Bakura knew that if he moved his head to the left, Malik's soft blonde hair would tickle at his chin and nose, and he would be able to better smell the spiced gel that Malik used in it. Nothing about Malik was straightforward, except for this. There were moments when Bakura could see past his defences – usually, frantic, clutching, shuddering moments. There were moments when Malik simply shrugged and held his hand. And then there was this. Right before he slept, Malik just gave up. There was nothing more vulnerable than sleep, no matter what you did about it. And so he did what he wanted, which was to roll into Bakura and just... Let himself go.<p>

If Bakura let himself, he could be stupidly content like this.

Nauseating.

He wouldn't let himself. It was so close and yet totally impossible. And the truth of the matter was... To be happy like this would mean forgetting. And he wouldn't, couldn't, forget.

Christ, everyone else had the good fortunate to do it. Ryou didn't know what a blessing it was when Bakura so helpfully locked him away. And the fucking pharaoh was privileged to forget _everything_, even his own fucking name.

Even Malik. Oh, he hadn't forgotten, exactly. But he was moving on from a lifetime of anger and hatred, or trying to. Trying to deal with what he'd done, to assimilate the consequences into his life, to move that life forward – despite the difficulty of reconciling what was right and wrong, and what he wanted to do and what he needed to do. Sometimes Bakura felt that Malik was the version of himself that he would never allow himself the chance to be.

A version with a tan, and a completely fantastic ass. And abs. And hands. And mouth. Good god, his mouth.

Bakura didn't understand how their paths had become so entangled in the present when they both knew there was an unbreachable distance between their futures. Nothing would deter Bakura from his plan. Not even Malik. It was about revenge, and honour, and ancestry, and of all the ironies, there was no one who would ever understand that better than Malik, either. This... interlude didn't change that. Malik had a lifetime of resentment and murderous impulses to deal with; well, Bakura had countless lifetimes, over and over, and nothing would erase that. Perhaps no amount of sand in an hourglass, no matter which way you turned it. And Malik knew it, too.

He wondered, idly, what would happen to Anzu when this eventually became clear. He loved – just flat-out fucking _loved_ – the thought of dividing her loyalties. What would she do with all her high ideals and rose-tinted glasses? Which of her friends would she choose to stand by and which would she abandon? Because there would be a choice, sooner or later. Ryou was on his side. Ryou didn't have a choice in the matter. Whichever way you looked at it, their side was the opposition.

He could just imagine the conversation now, put into terms a teenage girl could understand. _So... Team Pharoah or Team Tomb-robber?_

Bakura snorted softly, and Malik shifted lightly against him.

She was a strange girl, undoubtedly. Not that he understood what the fuck was going on with women at the best of times. He had decided, to his surprise, that she wasn't a total idiot. Close, but not total. Hysterical, to watch her and Ryou try to negotiate their adolescent awkwardnesses, to _get to know each other_, all the while suspecting that he probably was watching and did, indeed, find them hysterically funny. Children. And it was easy enough to separate Ryou's feelings for her from his own feelings, but he wondered how she was dealing with the opposite problem. Did she know where Ryou stopped and where he began? And what kind of faith was she putting in whatever good nature, whatever _morality_ she foolishly imagined that he might possess?

Oh, it was too good. There was no question in his mind – emotions were weapons.

The thing was, weapons were double-edged by nature. They were a strength and a weakness, whether that emotion was love or hate.

So the way Bakura saw it, he had three problems. The fact that his entire constitution was wrapped up in, formed by, inextricable from the undying anger that had been with him for as long as he could remember – not quite from his _earliest_ memories, but from the earliest memory that counted. The memory where everything burned.

And he had Ryou. He was fucking loathe to admit it, but he needed his host. It didn't take a genius to see that. He needed his body and even worse, he _liked_ this body. This wasn't parasitism. It was symbiosis.

And then there was Malik.

Malik knew what he had planned. And Bakura knew that Malik, sooner or later, had plans of his own. Tombkeepers to liberate, blah blah blah. They'd both be returning to that godforsaken desert country some time, but for very different reasons.

Thousands of years of waiting.

It could wait just a little bit longer.

Bakura knew that there was no one his bloody knife of vengeance would cut more deeply than it cut himself.

* * *

><p>Anzu found herself sitting in a room with Bakura and Malik. Sitting in Ryou's room. She wondered if there was a point when it hadn't all been leading up to this, or if it had been inevitable all along.<p>

From his chair in the corner, Malik was smiling genially, as usual, but Bakura stared at her with a dark look in his eyes. She felt like a mouse under the gaze of a hungry cat.

Then Bakura shuddered all over, and shook his head. After a second, his eyes and his mouth softened. He seemed to shrink somehow.

It was Ryou.

"Anzu," he said. He moved closer, sat next to her on the bed. "We don't have to do this."

Anzu's mouth felt dry, suddenly. Bakura had dressed Ryou – she could always tell. It was fairly obvious. Ryou was a shirt and sweater guy... Bakura was _so_ not. Right now Ryou was wearing a shirt, but it wasn't buttoned. He wore ratty blue jeans with a number of all-too-inviting holes in them.

Anzu shook her head. "We have to try."

"Why?" Ryou asked, suddenly. "We could just go on..."

Anzu sighed. "No, we can't." She nodded at Malik. "They're getting impatient, Ryou."

"I don't trust them."

She shrugged. "Neither do I, but..."

"Hey, kids, I'm sitting right here," Malik said.

Anzu ignored him. "I want to, Ryou. And if we put this off, we're just putting it off because we don't really know whether this can ever work or not. I want to know. If this goes all right, then... Well, we have a relationship. If it doesn't, then..." She sighed. "Then we probably never will."

She understood Ryou's hesitation. She didn't quite know if she wanted that question answered either, but she knew they _needed _to answer it.

Anzu kissed Ryou. She started to kiss him, and didn't stop. Soon, she almost forgot that Malik was watching them from the chair. The two of them tumbled back onto Ryou's bed, Ryou on top. She felt their legs twine together, and Ryou tugged gently on her bottom lip... And then a ripple went through Ryou's body, and the kiss turned ferocious, teeth nipped at her mouth.

Anzu froze.

Bakura stopped and grinned down at her. "Hello there, kitten."

Anzu wanted to tell him to get off her, but she didn't. She half-knew something like this would happen. She'd already agreed to this.

She swallowed, though, and tried anyway. "I thought..."

"Oh, no," Bakura said. "I mean, he's watching. But you don't _really_ want him in charge right now, do you? I mean, he doesn't even know what he's doing. I, on the other hand... Do."

Anzu lay still as Bakura kissed her again, and it was appallingly difficult not to respond. He was right. His kisses weren't the same as Ryou's – totally unsurprisingly, they were more aggressive. But they were also more sure, more driven. Bakura knew what he was doing and he knew what he wanted. And she knew that he liked taking control away from both of them.

"Oh, come on, you can't just lie there like a lump."

"...How do I know he's really still in there?"

Bakura blinked, and it was like watching a television change channels. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"It's okay," Ryou said. His voice was hoarse. "I'm here, Anzu."

"You can feel... things?" she asked.

He nodded, apparently uncertain of what he was supposed to say.

"How do I know it'll stay that way?" Anzu thought it would be okay if she _knew_ he was in there, but Bakura was in charge. He could shut Ryou away in his soul room at any moment and she'd never know and then it would be...

"Make him swear," Malik piped up from the corner.

Ryou snarled on top of her – no, it was Bakura. He pressed down a weight she hadn't even realised that Ryou had been careful to lift. Anzu tried to take a deep breath, but Bakura was too heavy. She fought a rising sense of panic.

"Don't you fucking help!" Bakura didn't exactly yell, but his voice was too menacing for it to be called talking, either.

Anzu concentrated on staying still. Bakura was sprawled on top of her, and for the first time, seeing the rage in those familiar brown eyes up so close, she was actually afraid. She wondered if he really was mad at Malik, or if this was another double act for her benefit.

"Bakura, I know you love to outwit and cheat and lie, but this isn't the time," Malik said calmly. He looked down at Anzu, apparently sincere. "Anzu, if you make him swear, he won't go back on his word."

Bakura glared down at her, daring her to say anything at all.

Anzu swallowed again. "Swear it," she found the voice to whisper.

"Fine."

Too easy, Anzu knew. She cleared her throat. "Swear that everything you feel, touch, experience, Ryou will feel it too, while you're in charge and we're together."

"While I'm in charge and we're together ..." Bakura seemed to catch himself before he said something so amazingly rude that she'd shove him off her completely. "... Being intimate," he amended lamely.

Malik laughed in the corner at Bakura's strained politeness.

"Shut the fuck up, you."

"Fine," Anzu agreed.

"I swear."

"Good," she said, forcing herself not to break eye contact with him.

Bakura bent his head closer to her face. "Although just so you know, you're underneath me, your legs wrapped around me. At this point, I could just take what I want whether you want me to or not."

Anzu glared now, suddenly more angry than scared. "You wouldn't dare."

Bakura just laughed and kissed her. When she didn't respond, he said, "He's feeling everything, remember."

Anzu closed her eyes for a second, and then when Bakura kissed her again, she took her anger at him and tried to turn it around. She tried to think only of Ryou. Bakura's hands didn't feel the same, his body didn't feel the same – and yet he still touched her like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Oh, hell it didn't matter, did it? What was she doing, anyway? She was about to have sex with two people in one body. Did it really make a difference which one was in charge? How the hell did Siamese twins do this anyway? Surely it was almost as weird, ancient mystical spirits aside.

Bakura's hands were under her clothes, pulling at them, and when she looked up she knew it was him, but she also knew it was Ryou's body. That he was in there. That he was doing this too.

"Ryou," she whispered.

Bakura scowled and paused. "Oh, come on. This is my good work. Have the decency not to call out someone else's name." His scowl turned into an evil little smile. "Don't make me teach you how to scream mine."

"It _is_ your name, _Ryou Bakura_." she retorted. She refused to give in to the intimidation. And Anzu wasn't stupid, she could tell what he was doing. "You're both there, and you're doing things that _he_ knows I like." Just not quite the same way, she added to herself, silently.

"Just shut up." Bakura kissed her again and Anzu closed her eyes, tried to lose herself in the sensation of his lips on hers. She could feel her clothes coming off, and she could feel Bakura's body – Ryou's body – pressed hard against her. Particularly hard in one area. She arched her hips to meet his erection and heard herself moan, almost as if there were someone else controlling her body.

"Kiss her," Bakura said abruptly, and suddenly Anzu felt an unfamiliar pair of lips on her own. She opened her eyes to see Malik's face. His eyes were also open and it only increased the intimacy of the moment. She was naked with one man pressing onto her, another leaning over and kissing her. Anzu didn't want to enjoy the feel of Malik's mouth – but she did. He was warm and inviting and, bizarrely, she trusted him more than she trusted Bakura. She didn't know why. He was clearly a manipulative liar with a screw or two that had rattled loose.

But at this moment in time, she knew he probably wasn't going to hurt her. Bakura still might.

Bakura laughed suddenly.

"Oh-ho! Don't like that, do you?"

Anzu and Malik parted, and he seemed to realise at the same time as she did that Bakura was talking to himself.

Bakura shifted his weight off Anzu, rolled to one side and stretched out alongside her, attitude casual. "Someone," he says, "Is not happy watching that."

"You bastard!" Anzu said. Belatedly, she remembered the problems attached to making Ryou experience everything Bakura wanted him to.

"Don't worry," Bakura grinned at her. "He'll probably like this less."

Bakura reached over her and grabbed Malik's neck, pulling him half-over Anzu in a kiss. Anzu tried not to move. Even though she knew it wasn't Ryou in charge, when Malik opened his mouth against Bakura, Bakura's whole face softened. He looked, more than ever, like Ryou.

It was like watching Ryou kiss Malik.

Anzu knew she ought to feel jealous, or... Something. But all she could think is how beautiful they both were.

She gasped as, all of a sudden, she felt a hand between her legs. She couldn't tell which of them the hand belonged to; the way their bodies were pressed together over her blocked her view. Anzu thought of struggling, but oh hell, it felt too good, and her anxiety was all tangled up with the heat that rushed through her at his - their - touch. The hand was gentle, quick, probing, and Anzu struggled to repress another moan.

Then the hands changed abruptly and Anzu knew, now, that the first one had belonged to Malik, because this one was more Bakura's style – quick and fast and rough. Anzu arched her back involuntarily - again. She tried to tell herself to get a grip, and opened her eyes – but when she did, she saw that Malik and Bakura weren't kissing any more. They were watching her face. She felt a blush spread over it.

Bakura just grinned. "You feel ready."

"I..." Anzu said.

"Oh please. Don't tell me you've changed your mind _now_. You're lucky Malik likes foreplay, for one thing."

Anzu stared at them both for a heartbeat, and then told herself sternly, now or never. She said, "Okay."

Bakura used his knees to part her legs further, and then he sank down on top of her.

"Wait," she said. "Condom?"

Bakura just rolled his eyes. "What do you think my hands were doing while Malik's were so busy?"

"Okay, okay." Anzu fought not to blush at the reminder. She could feel him hard against her, ready, and she tried not to brace herself – knew that if she tensed up, it would hurt more. But then he was inside her, and the sensation makes Anzu gasp, shudder – and it hadn't hurt at all. It felt tight, very tight, but it didn't hurt.

Bakura froze. "What the fuck? I thought you were a fucking virgin."

Malik snorted. "That's kind of a contradiction in terms."

"I am!" Anzu protested, not quite believing they were even having this conversation.

"You are _now_," Malik couldn't seem to resist saying. Anzu was glad someone was finding this so amusing.

Bakura's dark brown eyes looked almost black now, but he was pressed against her, inside her, and the rush of adrenaline that Anzu felt at his anger mingled with the adrenaline, the hormones already pulsing through her body. All mixed up and she couldn't feel fear, only anticipation.

"Then why the fuck isn't this hurting you?"

"I don't know!" Anzu thought vaguely that she ought to be embarrassed, but there was just plain too much else going on.

Bakura moved suddenly – withdrew and slammed back into her. The force of it was so close to pain that Anzu cried out.

"I wanted it to hurt!"

"Ballet classes," Malik said.

"What the fuck?" Bakura turned his head and yelled at him.

"She does ballet."

"What the dithering fuckhead does that have to do with _anything_, you stupid Egyptian asp!" Bakura yelled again.

Malik still wasn't phased, though Anzu was beginning to wonder if there was any possible way this whole thing could end well.

"Well," Malik said, taking on a mock-instructive tone, "Ballet is one of those sports that requires young girls to do a lot of stretching. And be very flexible."

"So?" Bakura yelled again.

"Oh, god. Do I have to spell it out for you? I guess all the blood is in your cock right now and not your brain. She probably already broke her freaking hymen by dancing, okay?"

"Well what the hell is the point of me doing this, then? If it wasn't going to hurt, I might as well have let Ryou do it!"

Anzu couldn't help it. It was too absurd. She giggled.

"Shut up!" Bakura yelled.

"Oh, make me, please," she responded. "You know, if you're not going to do anything while you're there, you might as well get off." She laughed harder. "Well, I mean, if you're not going to _get off_, you might as well stop."

Malik started to laugh too. "Honestly, Bakura. Just shut up and get on with it." He lowered his voice, and leaned in, but Anzu still heard him. "If it makes you feel any better, you're still fucking the only girl the pharaoh has had any interest in for a few thousand years. You and Ryou have stolen her right out from under him, and if that doesn't get you nice and hard, I don't know what will."

Anzu heard the information, but she just couldn't seem to care. She wondered if she should. But looking up at Bakura – at Ryou's face – she realised it was too late for all that. It was Ryou she wanted to be with.

Bakura just stared down at her. "Did you just tell me to 'make you' shut up?"

Anzu stopped smiling.

"Fine." His malicious grin was back. "I will."

Bakura began to move in and out of her, and Anzu felt a sense of helplessness that was surprisingly pleasant. Her hips rose to meet his, again and again. Anzu felt a building sense of pressure inside her and she realised that Bakura's attempt to shut her up had succeeded in almost a perverse way – it took all her concentration not to give in to how good it felt, not to express that feeling with series of moans. But some part of her retained enough resentment at Bakura not to give in to that feeling. She bit her lip, and again, trying to regain some sense of self-control, forced herself to open her eyes.

It didn't help. Anzu's eyes fluttered open and she saw that although he was moving inside her, Bakura was kissing Malik again. Seeing the two of them together above her sent a spike of desire through her so sudden that even she was taken aback. She felt her whole body tighten around Bakura's – arms, legs and other more intimate parts.

Feeling it too, Bakura looked down at her, surprised. "Oh, really? I mean, I could tell you liked that, but _that_ much?" He paused. And then his Chesire grin stretched from ear to ear, and his teeth flashed in a way that Ryou's never did. "Say," he said. "Here's an interesting proposition."

"Oh god, what now?" Malik rolled his eyes and pulled back from them both. "This deflowering could go in the Guinness Book of Records if it goes on for much longer."

Bakura ignored him. "How much would you like Ryou to kiss you right now?" And then Bakura flexed his hips, to make it clear what he meant by "right now." Anzu tried not to writhe underneath him.

She stared into his face, as cruel as ever, like he could take a smile and turn it into a glare somehow. "Don't tease me," she said, annoyed that her voice sounded more like she was pleading than ordering him.

"I'm serious."

Anzu took a deep breath. The honest answer? "You know I'd like that more than anything."

Bakura glared in earnest now. "I'm going to overlook the insult to my own skills, just this once," he said. "I'll let him kiss you... But then he has to kiss Malik."

Anzu looked at Malik's face. For a moment she thought that he was going to maintain his usual inscrutable smile, but then he winked at her.

"Don't you _care_?" she asked him, unable to stop from blurting the words.

Malik shrugged. "A change is as good as a holiday," he said. Which, of course, answered nothing. As usual.

Anzu looked back up at Bakura. "I can't answer that," she said. "It's up to Ryou. It's his mouth."

Bakura laughed again, and it was so delighted that Anzu felt the urge to snap _what's funny?_ at him. But before she could open her mouth, Ryou's lips were against it. And they were most definitely Ryou's.

His hands slid down her body and he pressed himself against her like a drowning man. She felt him move inside her tentatively, uncertainly.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

Anzu nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Ryou brushed a strand of hair across her forehead. "You're beautiful, Anzu."

Weirdly, his sweetness made her feel more self-conscious than anything else up to this point. Bakura and Malik had been so casual – evil, but casual – about the whole thing that it had made it easy for her not to think too much about the position she was in. To try not to think much about it. But now Ryou reminded her, just by being himself. He kissed her again softly.

"It's okay," he told her. He smiled, and the smile was just a little more cocky than she was used to seeing on his face. "I really can feel everything." He paused. " Just... Just do what you want to do, okay?"

He moved inside her again, still a little experimentally, and Anzu shivered in response.

"I know, I know," Ryou muttered, clearly talking to Bakura. He looked up at Malik and blushed. "Well?"

"Weeeell, what?" Malik drawled. "The deal was that you kiss me, not that I kiss you."

Ryou took a deep breath. He leaned on his elbows over Anzu, pushed himself up a little further. He leaned forward and his lips touched Malik's cautiously – but then Malik reached out and grabbed Ryou, pulled him closer, and kissed him fiercely.

Anzu couldn't help it. They really were beautiful. It was like bronze and ivory touching each other, and if she wanted to, she could touch them both. Anzu felt her heart beat faster. She knew the instant Bakura took over, because he grabbed Malik's lower lip in his teeth and bit down savagely, at the same time as he began to ride Anzu again. Malik let out a groan – from pain or pleasure or both Anzu couldn't tell, but she the sound was echoed by one from her own mouth.

Malik's body slid down beside hers and she was suddenly pressed between two of them, Malik at her side, Bakura on top. Malik was hard against her thigh, still kissing Bakura, while Bakura moved in and out of her with the desperate need to possess her, to possess all of them at once. Anzu's whole body moved. Her breath came in gasps. And then she felt Malik's hands – one of them on himself, stroking steadily, the other back between her legs. That hand brushed Bakura's shaft as Bakura kept moving, and Bakura faltered for just a moment in his movements, groaned above her for the first time. When he did, Anzu had a second to realise that although he got off on the power he had over her and Ryou, it was Malik who actually made him _desire_.

Then Malik's fingers began to move over Anzu, to flick deftly and quickly at that soft spot between her legs, and Anzu felt as though her body were about to disintegrate. She wanted to scream someone's name, but she doesn't know whose, so she settled for whimpering "Oh god oh god oh god," instead.

And then it felt like the three of them – the four of them – hit an electric current, like their bodies were connected by tangled rope that had suddenly been pulled taut, and now the vibrations were moving down the entire line. When the shock hit her, Anzu heard herself cry out, as Bakura and Malik did.

And then it was over. Anzu's breathing was heavy – she struggled to breathe at all. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to. And she didn't want to move.

Bakura collapsed against her.

And then he whispered, "Anzu," and she looked up into Ryou's gentle eyes. He kissed her softly, and she clutched at him. She began to laugh, and it was nothing like Bakura's laugh, or even Malik's more mischievous peal.

It was a laughter that was purely happy.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, Ryou let himself through Malik's front door with Bakura's spare key.<p>

Malik apparently heard the door open because he called out from his bedroom. "You said you weren't coming over, you loveable jackass. I have other plans, now."

Malik stuck his head out of the bedroom doorway, and did a double take. Ryou guessed he could tell right away that it was him, because Bakura had actually let him choose his own clothes – he assumed, just to mess with Malik, who didn't seem to admire his collection of vests.

"Ryou?" Malik walked into the room and he was half-dressed himself, apparently trying to decide on one of the two shirts in his hands.

Ryou shrugged, feeling awkward. "Bakura let me walk over."

"Oh, Bakura _let_ you walk to the station, spend thirty minutes on one train, wait in the cold night air on the platform, spend another twenty minutes on _that_ train, and then walk from the station to my house?"

"Er... Yes."

Malik shook his head ruefully. "You sure are something."

"Um... Thanks?" Ryou said.

"No, not you, idiot. I was talking to Bakura."

"Oh, well... I assume he's listening."

"I thought you were supposed to be with Anzu tonight." Malik said. "Didn't you have a date?"

"Uh, yeah." Ryou stared at the carpet. "Her dad caught her sneaking out and grounded her. We'll have to figure something out, I guess."

"Oh?" Malik smiled, as if he found such a trivial and ordinary teenage occurrence to be absurd. "Do you think we should send Bakura to meet her parents and reassure them of her whereabouts?"

Ryou couldn't help it – he laughed softly at that thought, before he realised he probably oughtn't, for all kinds of reasons likely to piss off more than one person.

Malik narrowed his eyes. "So. Not that it isn't nice to have this little talk, but why are you still here?" Malik came to stand in front of Ryou, and he waved his hand in front of Ryou's eyes. "Helloooo, Bakura? Are you in there? You better come out, because even if you don't, you're going to be bent over my couch in about five minutes with me fucking you."

"Malik!" Ryou blushed. "I know you wouldn't do that to me."

Malik's purple eyes turned cold. "You have a weird amount of faith in me, Ryou. You ought to remember that I'm not your friend."

Ryou cleared his throat. "I choose to believe otherwise."

"Oh, Christ. Next thing you know Anzu will be over here making a speech about it and offering to braid my hair." Absent-mindedly, Malik combed his fingers through his unruly blonde mane.

"He's just waiting for me to say something to you."

"He's what?" Malik said, surprised. "Are you kidding me? ... You are kidding me, right? Did you find some way to destroy that gawdy ring and now you're just fucking with my head?"

Ryou rolled his eyes. He said, "I figured it out."

"You _did_ find a way to destroy the ring?" Malik didn't seem too concerned, so he obviously was being deliberately obtuse.

"No," Ryou said. "You told me... That things all depended on my definition of love. Well, I figured it out."

"Yes, yes," Malik replied impatiently. "Please, lay your pearls of wisdom on me. What is it?"

Ryou opened his mouth to answer... But he didn't get the chance to actually speak.

"This!" Bakura snarled, delighted to ruin – or just possibly prove – Ryou's explanation, and before Malik could move, Bakura tackled him down onto the carpet and straddled him. Malik was winded beneath him, but Bakura liked that. He ground himself against Malik's body, ran his hands up Malik's bare chest. He dug his nails into Malik's skin, not quite hard enough to break the skin, and pulled his hands back down again, leaving red, angry welts down Malik's trim torso. Malik writhed underneath him and Bakura could feel him growing hard, so quickly, just like always.

"What was that about bending me over your couch?" Bakura asked with a grin.

As soon as Malik could draw breath, he was laughing. And to Bakura's surprise, just for once, it sounded purely happy.

**End.**

* * *

><p><em>Thank you SO much to everyone who read and reviewed this story. I really do appreciate your comments, and to those who didn't sign in or left me anon reviews, I'm sorry I can't reply personally! I hope you all enjoyed the last (ridiculously porny) instalment of this story, which I have been terribly nervous about posting. And now... on to more thiefshipping, I guess...!<em>


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